Sons, Prodigal and Otherwise
by Marguerite1
Summary: Toby reacts to being used as a litmus test. Takes place after "Two Cathedrals."


**Sons, Prodigal and Otherwise**

Classification: Post-Ep for "Two Cathedrals"   
Summary: "I get to be the permanent White House litmus test?   
To see what will send me off, what will make me crack?" 

*** 

It happened in a thunderous roar that obliterated the storm outside, happened in a hail of   
questions and gasps to rival the fury of nature, happened with the flashing lights of a   
hundred cameras blinding everyone to the possibility of failure. 

"I will seek reelection." 

Toby's arm ached from the pressure of Leo's hand. 

"I will seek forgiveness from the American people for my transgressions against them." 

He searched the crowd for a blonde and a redhead because Leo had been worried that Donna   
and Margaret might get injured in the melee after the press conference. When he spotted   
them he was amazed that they were glowing, incandescent from lightning or flashbulbs or   
the inner glow of elation. 

"I will seek creative and effective ways to cut down the scourges of our land - poverty,   
ignorance, illness, and bigotry." 

He spotted Charlie, who was standing alone, still as a statue, silent tears pouring down   
the face of a young man with an old soul. 

"I will seek the finest legal and ethical minds in the country to determine whether I am   
to be considered worthy of your trust." 

Toby disentangled his arm from Leo's fingers and watched his colleagues: C.J., her   
mercurial expression transforming from gloom to rapture, Josh, flashing a brilliant smile   
and pumping his fist in the air, and Sam, holding his hand over his mouth as if to   
restrain a joyous shout. 

"I will seek the love of my family, the wisdom of those who counsel me, and the grace of   
God." 

And so it happened. 

Afterwards, Toby found himself half pushed, half carried by the surging mass of people,   
barely able to stay with the group that was headed to the motorcade. Over the din he heard   
Josh yelling for someone to get Margaret and Donna to one of the cars. Still so paranoid,   
but then it'd been just about a year to the day since his life had been, literally, torn   
apart. Josh could be forgiven. 

So could the President. 

Leo, on the other hand... 

"So. I didn't need your damned lifeboat," he growled at the wet man who shared the limo   
seat with him. "And I sure as hell didn't need another test." 

"Toby, it wasn't..." 

"Don't bother, Leo." 

The ride to the White House was cacophonous - sirens, rain, thunder, lightning. But there   
was no speech. Even if he had spoken, Toby wasn't sure that Leo would be able to hear him   
through this new barrier that separated them. 

Toby exited through his door, Leo through the other, and they stood on opposite sides of   
the long, black car. Rain pelted them. It was hard, cold rain for this late in the year,   
slicing horizontally in the howling wind and rendering umbrellas useless. There was   
nothing to do but wait and get wet. To see what was next. 

Sam was the first to clamber out of his limo, all arms and legs and youthful energy. He   
made an exaggerated bow and extended his hand to C.J. Toby heard her laugh as she   
extricated her long legs from the car. "God, Sam, at least wait until you've had a beer or   
something..." 

"We are gonna be the emperors of all we survey!" Josh ran from his limo and caught up with   
them in a manic version of his happy strut. He draped one arm over Sam's shoulders, using   
his other hand to yank C.J. to his side. It was rough, brotherly affection. 

Any other night it would have made him smile. 

The Secret Service ushered them in as a unit, five people who usually worked as closely   
together as any humans could. And, as far as three of them knew, nothing had changed. 

C.J. caught sight of Leo and ducked Josh's embrace to throw her arms around his waist.   
"Oh, my God, did you know he was gonna do that? I didn't know he was gonna do that. Did HE   
know he was gonna do that?" 

Leo ruffled her hair, looking over her shoulder at Toby. "I had an inkling, maybe." 

"You could've told us," Josh whined, but he was grinning madly. "I mean, we're not exactly   
chopped liver." 

"I prefer to be thought of as a good paté, although lately I've been treated like last   
week's fish," Toby heard himself say, and in a dark, secret part of his heart he was glad   
to see pain flashing in Leo's eyes. 

"Hey." Josh's face fell. He went to Toby and clasped his shoulder. "Not now," he   
continued, cutting a glance at Sam's confused expression and C.J.'s open mouth. 

"I'm gonna..." Leo inclined his head in the direction of his office. 

The four of them watched him, and not one word was spoken until Leo was out of earshot. It   
was Sam who broke the silence, walking up to Toby with his fists balled on his hips. "What   
the hell?" 

"I don't want to talk about it," Toby muttered, running his hand over his wet head. "And   
I'm wet and I'm cold, for God's sakes, and why the hell am I standing here, wet and cold,   
when I could be in my office..." 

"Wet and cold," Josh continued, holding out his own arms to show that his jacket was   
soaked through. 

"Look, we're stuck with being wet and cold. Do we also have to be sober?" C.J. asked in a   
plaintive tone. 

"You've got a good point," Josh said, and Toby could hear the false, desperate note in his   
voice. "C'mon, someone's got a secret supply, somewhere." 

"Not me," said Sam. "We drank all mine last Saturday after we wrote that stuff about the   
NRA." 

"I might have some wine," C.J. put in, but Sam interrupted. 

"No, you don't, because we drank that, too." 

"You are a pain in the ass, Sam, you know that?" 

He stood on tiptoe and balanced with his hands on her shoulders. "Yeah, but you love me   
anyway." 

"Go. Away." She gave him a gentle shove in the chest, laughing, but when she saw Toby she   
stopped. "Hey, Toby, let's go get something. Talk it out." 

"I, uh, nah." He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I never   
opened that bottle of scotch Ed sent me for Christmas. It's in my office and you're   
welcome to it. But I've got work." 

"What work?" Josh challenged. 

He couldn't look at him, shrugging into his jacket and casting his eyes downward. "Stuff." 

"Toby, we all got stuff, but tonight, just for one night, can we stop acting like the   
world's about to implode? C'mon, let's go." Josh's wheedling tone was edged with anxiety,   
and he plucked at Toby's sleeve like a child asking for candy. "C'mon. One drink. Toby.   
Toby." 

He could no more refuse Josh than he could kick a stray puppy. "I suppose the affairs of   
state can wait for, what, an hour?" 

"Good." C.J. linked her arm through his and he felt a frisson pass between them as they   
led Sam and Josh to Toby's office. Someday he'd have to deal with that electricity, along   
with the seventeen thousand other things that had been demanding a segment of his brain   
for the last few years. 

The procession to Toby's office and downstairs was silent, except for Sam's approving   
whistle when he saw the label on the bottle of scotch. Even though the mess was deserted,   
they still piled into their usual booth in the corner after filling their glasses with   
ice. 

"You know, this is like a ceremony," Josh said as he elbowed Sam and motioned for him to   
scoot over. "We always sit like this. You and me on one side, Toby and C.J. on the other." 

"It's meaningful," Sam said. "See how she wants to sit opposite me instead of stretching   
her legs on the outside of the booth? It's because of my rakish charm." 

"No, you just have the shortest legs and that leaves me more room." 

"Cold, C.J. You are a cold and heartless woman." 

"Don't forget wet," she said, opening the bottle with a flourish. 

Toby squirmed in his seat, tapping his fingers on top of the table. "Look, I'm not gonna   
be able to contribute anything positive to this evening. I'm gonna go, okay?" 

"We just got here!" protested C.J. "You can't leave yet!" 

"I just..." He started to get up, but Josh restrained him with a hand on his arm. 

"Sit for a while, have a couple glasses. You don't have to talk if you don't want to to,   
but if you leave, then we'll leave too because we're worried, and we'll be pissed that you   
screwed up our night, and then you'll REALLY have something to worry about because you   
know that we'll hunt you down and find particularly humiliating ways to get even with   
you." 

Toby's dark eyes glinted and he huffed into his beard. "Don't you ever breathe, Josh?" 

"What's today, Wednesday? Nope. I won't breathe again until tomorrow." 

"And I'm not breathing until you tell Sam and me what happened, Toby, so..." C.J. turned   
in her seat, her sodden jacket squeaking against the leather. 

"I got an offer today." Toby's voice was low, a distant rumble of thunder. 

Sam whipped his head around to look first at Toby, then at Josh. "What kind of offer?" 

"An apple from a serpent." 

"Toby," C.J. groaned, "I have had, maybe, three hours' sleep since I found out about the   
thing..." 

"You know, C.J., the whole world knows about it now and we're allowed to call it by   
name..." 

"...and I am completely out of the mood for cryptic conversations!" 

"Greg Summer-Hayes offered Toby a job as news director for a new cable network," Josh   
supplied into the sudden void, his neutral voice belied by the tremor of his hand as he   
poured a glass of scotch for himself. 

"My God." Sam's mouth opened and shut a few times. "That's...that's..." 

"A setup. Leo arranged it to see what I'd do. To see if I'd take it. Jump ship." He   
glanced at each one of them. "So. Who's gonna ask?" 

"We don't need to, Toby," Sam said. "We all know that you would never leave this   
administration." 

He relaxed a little, closing his eyes and running his fingers through his beard. "Okay.   
Well." 

C.J. cocked her head to one side. "Toby, you really think this was a setup?" 

"Yes, I do. And it's not the usual paranoiac ravings of Toby Ziegler - I followed up on my   
hunch. I asked Leo. He confirmed it." 

Sam shook his head. "I can't believe that Leo, of all people, would..." 

"Sam, you can't believe that Leo could take a dump. I know how you work, moving from   
father figure to father figure, looking for someone who won't disappoint you, and right   
now it's Leo. You're so damn naive, it makes my teeth hurt." 

Toby could hear a murmur of thunder in the distance, or it might have been his heartbeat. 

"Yeah." Sam blinked, staring at some remote point just over C.J.'s head, his lips   
compressed. "Yeah. Josh, excuse me." Sam started to push Josh aside so he could get up,   
but Josh shook his head and refused to move. 

"No. No no no no. We're not gonna do this." Josh slammed his fist on the table, rattling   
the glasses. "We've been so stressed out and exhausted that the first reaction we have is   
to turn on each other, and I will not allow that to happen." He ran his hands through the   
damp waves of his hair. "We thought it was all over after tonight, that there wasn't any   
future for us, but now - we've got a campaign to run..." 

"...a grand jury to face..." Toby added. 

"And you know what?" Sam replied, 'I can face them. I can face whatever grand jury,   
congressional committee, judiciary committee, whatever they throw at me. And you know why,   
Toby? Because I am a member of the senior staff that serves the best president to grace   
the White House in the last fifty years." 

"That's a lovely sentiment, but you have to remember that he lied, Sam. He could very well   
be impeached and have to resign." 

"Yeah, and he could very well be so damn impressive that he lives through it and runs, and   
wins. We can do it. But you have to stay with us." 

"I wonder how you'll feel after someone makes you an offer no right-thinking left-wing   
spokesperson could reasonably refuse." 

"I'd feel the same way you did. Betrayed. Hurt." Toby flinched as Sam directed the full   
two hundred watts of his blue-eyed gaze on him. "You were the first of us to know, Toby.   
You were the one they trusted before any of the rest of us. That's gotta mean something." 

Toby couldn't look Sam in the eye, couldn't bear the laser-bright scrutiny. He took a long   
swallow of the scotch before setting the glass on the table, watching the droplets of   
condensation make their silent track down the sides. "It means nothing." 

"It should mean everything." 

Leo's voice shook Toby to the core. 

"Hey, Leo, we thought you were, uh..." Sam jerked his chin upwards. 

"Yeah. I was. But I figured you four would need to talk and I figured where you'd be." He   
put his hand on a nearby chair. "Mind if I join you?" 

Josh's voice was soft. "Leo." 

"At the table, Josh. I'm not gonna drink." 

"Yeah. I, uh, knew that." 

The chair legs scraped across the floor as Leo took a seat at the head of the table. "I   
don't have to ask what you've been talking about. I do have to ask if anyone here has a   
question for me." 

C.J. swirled the drink around with her finger. "I think we understand why you did it, Leo.   
We maybe don't agree with you, but we understand." 

"Thank you, C.J. Sam? Josh? Questions?" 

They shook their heads. 

"Toby?" 

He drew in a breath as he rubbed his fingers against his temples. "I'm the only person   
sitting at this table, the only member of the senior staff, who wasn't the President's   
first choice. I'm the kid who got picked last, Leo, and I gotta tell you that it does not   
make me feel good. Even under the best of circumstances." 

"Toby, you have done an outstanding job from day one. Everyone appreciates that. He does,   
too." 

"Well, the two of you have a damn strange way of showing it." He elbowed his way past Leo   
and Josh, standing up and pacing the room like a caged bear. His heart thundered in his   
chest and he tasted something like blood in his mouth. Fight or flight, words pouring out   
of him like rain. 

"You came to me to get an honest reaction about the M.S. having been hidden. Did I not   
give it to you? Along with, may I add, some pretty damn sage advice about getting in touch   
with lawyers before the shit hit the fan?" 

"You did," Leo said in a low, even tone. Toby could see him turning to Sam and Josh with a   
warning finger to his lips. 

"Did I not get up from the most horrible, most surreal meeting in the world and go right   
into a speech session where I came up with jokes funny enough to make the President look   
like a wit in front of correspondents from every major and minor syndication in the   
country?" 

"Yes, you did. No one's disputing that. But your reaction was so..." 

"Normal. It was a normal reaction. You wanted a worst-case scenario, you got it." He   
stopped pacing and stood over Leo, looking down on him. "So because of that, I get to be   
the permanent White House litmus test? To see what will send me off, what will make me   
crack? Why me? Why not you? You've got a history. Why not Josh, who is certifiably   
nuts...?" 

"Toby, stop it!" C.J. shouted. 

Josh shrugged, but his shoulders hunched as if warding off a blow. "I'm sure he meant that   
in a completely affectionate way. I'd say that I don't have to stand for this, but...I   
don't. So I'm sitting." 

Toby hated that look, the one that said he'd managed to find the one soft spot in Josh's   
shell and stick a machete through it. The only thing he hated worse was when C.J. regarded   
him with bleary-eyed contempt, the way she did now. Compounded by the earlier pain he'd   
inflicted on Sam, who now rested his forehead on his folded arms, it was too much. He just   
stood there with his head bowed, clasping and unclasping his hands. 

Leo's voice was soft, compassionate. "Anyone ever tell you what Toby's secret service code   
name is?" he asked no one in particular. 

The silence was eerie. Toby could hear nothing but his own erratic breathing. 

"It's Oscar," Leo continued. "Like the grouch." 

"Hey. Sam. Toby's a Muppet," Josh whispered, not without rancor, and Toby was glad to see   
Sam raise his head and crack a smile. 

"I am not," Toby denied, grimacing at Leo. "We weren't supposed to mention that. Ever." 

"And don't you dare laugh, Josh. Or should I say," and here, Leo's eyes narrowed although   
he was smiling, 'Motormouth.'" 

"You're kidding," Sam said, his lips trembling with the effort not to laugh.   
"Motormouth?" 

"They wanted to call him 'Butthead,' but I said no," Leo smirked. 

"Yeah, that's right. Mock away, my comrades." Josh folded his arms across his chest.   
"Besides, it was changed." Toby saw something sad in the dark brown of Josh's eyes,   
something heavy and distant. "They changed it after the thing. In Rosslyn." 

"I didn't know that," Toby said softly. "What are you now?" 

Josh just shook his head, looking downward. It was Leo who answered the question,   
regarding Toby with those keen, intelligent eyes. 

"He's 'Phoenix.'" 

Toby watched as C.J. reached across the table and took Josh's hand in hers. She looked   
from Josh, then to Sam and Leo, and finally to Toby, and she gave him a gentle smile. "I   
think there's a metaphor in there, guys." 

"It's us," Sam said. "I'm about to make an idealistic speech, Toby, so don't clench your   
teeth." 

"I'm sorry, Sam." 

"Shut up and let me be naive." He flashed a grin at Toby, his almost-all-is-forgiven   
smile, and Toby felt the muscles in his neck begin to relax. "We're all the Phoenix   
tonight. Going over to the State Department, we thought we were about to go down in flames   
- and who knows, we still might. But tonight, in ways we can't yet understand, we've risen   
from the ashes and we're spreading our wings. And just for a little while, Toby, we're   
gonna fly." 

As he looked at his deputy, Toby was, grateful that his beard gave him such a fierce   
affect when in truth he just wanted to grab the man and hug him. Instead, he wrinkled his   
forehead. "My teeth hurt." 

Sam threw an ice cube at him. 

"Boys, boys," Leo chuckled, holding his hands up in the air. "I just want to leave you   
with something, okay? May I leave you with something?" He waited until all four of them   
were paying attention, then he continued. 

"After Mrs. Landingham's service, the President asked for a few minutes alone. The Secret   
Service was locking down the building but they weren't finished with closing all the doors   
when the President started to talk. I heard a little of what he said." Leo looked at Josh.   
"He was complaining to God about what happened to you, asked if it was a warning shot for   
what was to come. He called you his son." 

Josh's eyelids slid shut. Toby could see a thick tear shimmering on his lower lashes. 

"Not just him. You're all his sons," Leo whispered. 

C.J. looked down at her chest. "Oh. Great." 

"I mean that in a completely non-sexist, metaphorical way." 

"Of course." She squeezed Josh's hand and he gulped for air while Sam patted his shoulder. 

Leo continued. "He may, once in a while, seem to take you for granted. He may not praise   
you enough for the things you do well, and may punish you more than you think is fair when   
you screw up. But he does love you, each and every one of you. And he thinks the world of   
you." He took a deep breath. "Jed Bartlet was my best friend for years before he became my   
boss. He had faith in me when I had no reason to have faith in myself. And because of   
that, I protect him, sometimes beyond normal reason. That's what happened with Gregg   
Summer-Hayes, Toby, and I'm not gonna apologize for it." 

"I didn't expect you to," Toby said, but his heart's burden was lessened nonetheless. 

"God forbid that someday, you might have to face a situation like this, where someone you   
care about might be in a position to hurt Sam, or C.J., or Josh. Wouldn't you do what I   
did?" 

"I'd like to think I wouldn't," Toby said slowly. "But..." He spread his hands out in the   
air. "I don't know. I've been a stepchild in this administration since the beginning, Leo.   
I've been the prodigal son all this time. And it hurts." 

"But when the prodigal son returned, his father rejoiced," Leo stated. 

Sam chose this moment to rejoin the conversation. "I always wondered if the non-prodigal   
brothers..." 

"...and sisters, maybe," C.J. added. 

"...felt that somehow they got screwed in the deal." 

Leo rose, walking over to Toby and putting his hand on Toby's shoulder. "If I stand here,   
right now, and tell Toby how much I value him, will you feel that way?" 

Sam's mouth formed the word 'no' but nothing came out. C.J. shook her head. 

They all looked over at Josh. 

"Don't look at me." His voice dripped acid. "I'm 'certifiably nuts,' so my opinion isn't   
worth much." 

"Josh." Toby squeezed his eyes shut, his whole body aching as he remembered the horror of   
finding Josh with blood pouring from his chest. He could still feel the hot, sticky blood   
on his hands, and in his nightmares he still heard himself crying out for help. "I'm...I   
don't..." 

"It's okay," Josh murmured, glancing up from his hands to Toby's face and back down again.   
"It's, you know, okay." 

Toby knew their tempers: Sam's bright, quick flare that was spent all too quickly, C.J.'s   
slow burn that could peel paint off the walls for a week before she got over it. He knew   
the way Josh had been, before, when he'd sulk, yell at Donna, apologize to Donna, and be   
able to laugh at himself within an hour. It was the new Josh that Toby couldn't   
comprehend. 

"It's not okay. I'm an asshole. A self-righteous, bellowing asshole." 

"Don't stop - you're on a roll," Josh drawled, but at last his smile reached his eyes. 

"You guys aren't gonna, I dunno, hug or something are you?" Sam asked plaintively, waving   
his hands for emphasis. 

"Nope." Toby unfolded his arms and headed for the stairs. "I'm going back to my office to   
make miracles happen, starting with keeping Josiah Bartlet in office for another four   
years." He smiled, showing a flash of white teeth, and was gratified to see the others   
smiling back. He put one hand on the bannister and pointed upward with the other. "I'm   
gonna dust off the ashes and fly, Sam." 

It happened in a flash of rare good humor, the kind only his closest friends saw, the ones   
who waved at him as he took the stairs two at a time. 

***   
End   
*** 

Feedback would make the pollsters grin: marguerite@swbell.net.   
Back to West Wing. 


End file.
